Be Near Me
by OncomingBadWolf
Summary: When Rose falls seriously ill, there's no way out. There's no cure. No medication that will work. No way of saving her. But the Doctor's stubborn. And there's no way he's waiting for her time to just... run out. Five Chapters total. Ten/Rose.
1. One: As the Blood Creeps

**Be Near Me**

_**Disclaimer: **Never is, and never shall be, mine. Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and, at the moment, RTD. The excepts of poems in each chapter are from Tennyson's 'In Memoriam'. (And actually the inspiration to use the poems is thanks to rosa acicularis)_

_**Characters:** Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, and a few Other Characters._

_**Rating & Warnings:** T; Mild swearing, and older (sometimes angsty) themes._

_**Genre: **Angst, Drama, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance. _

_**Timeline:** After 'The Age of Steel'._

_**Summary:** When Rose falls seriously ill with a rare alien disease, there's no way out. There's no cure. No medication that will work. No way of saving her.__ But the Doctor's stubborn. And there's no way he's waiting for her time to just... run out. Five chapters total. _

_**A.N:** The chapters may take a little longer than I'm used to, to get up, because they're longer ones than I usually write. _

* * *

Chapter One  
As The Blood Creeps

_Be near me when my light is low,  
When the blood creeps, and the nerves prick  
And tingle; and the heart is sick,  
And all the wheels of Being slow._

– – –

She tasted the blood before she saw any.

She woke, and instead of the usual crisp, dry taste of Saliva, there was the metallic, and slightly tangy, taste of blood in her mouth. She scrunched her face up, sticking and un-sticking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She swallowed, and immediately regretted the action when a warm sour sensation ran down her throat.

Perhaps she had bitten her tongue in her sleep, she thought to herself with a frown. She had never done that before, but then there was a time when she had never traveled in a time machine with a man who could change his face before either. So there was a first time for everything.

Sighing, Rose clambered out of the warm sanctuary of her bed and padded over to the bathroom. She grabbed a glass from the side of the sink and filled it with cool water, before pressing it to her lips. She swashed the water around her mouth and spat it into back into the sink, recoiling, slightly shocked, when she saw the amount of wet red water spinning toward the plughole. If honest, she hadn't expected a small bite of her tongue produce quite so much of the disgusting red stuff.

Rose took another gulp of water, repeating the process, and feeling her mild worry subsiding when she saw much less red water, and a little more clear. She swallowed much of the rest of the water, before wandering back into her room to change. She briefly wondered about crawling back into bed, caught over with an unexpected tiredness. Then again, although it was early (or it was at least, it was on _her_ body clock) she had no doubt that the Doctor was just jumping on the balls of his feet in the console room, in rabid anticipation to get out of the vortex, and _on_ into some unknown, most probably dangerous, evil villain-clad adventure.

That thought in mind, Rose changed quickly into her usual jeans, top and hoodie, and bounced quickly through the TARDIS corridors to the console room. The Doctor was exactly where she expected him to be (leaning over the TARDIS, busily pulling knobs and dials, most probably setting the coordinates for their next outing) and he was, indeed, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet. His heels briefly holding his weight, before he rolled it onto his toes.

She watched him for a while, enjoying the way his wild brown hair flailed about as he crossed his hands from button to lever. Her lips twitched upward, as she heard him mumble something as he twiddled a certain dial before letting out a loud cry of 'aha!' and bounding over to the TARDIS console screen. Rose shifted her weight and leaned against the wall, a little surprised he hadn't noticed her yet seeing as his Timelord ears were usually so acute to any movement, small or mighty.

She watched as he gazed at the screen, his glasses perched on the end of his nose. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of his concentrating features. She stepped forward, about to finally let him know of her presence in the room, when an unfamiliar wave of vertigo sent the world (or at least the TARDIS) spinning for a few whirlwind seconds. She gripped quickly at the wall behind her, deciding it would definitely be best not to topple ungracefully to the floor – especially with the Doctor a few meters away.

"Rose?" said a voice. Oh, okay maybe not a few meters away anymore. God knows how he got in front of her so quickly, but he was already steadying her, gripping her forearms tightly, and giving her that concerned gaze he'd mastered so well. "You okay there?"

She looked at him – all soft, small freckles; big, brown hair; dark rimmed specs; and concerned frown – and gave him a smile she hoped was reassuring, though it felt oddly put on for some reason, especially when her vision clouded a little again; the TARDIS feeling a little like she did when she was spinning them both to one of their dangerous destinations.

"Yeah," Rose said quickly, putting all her weight against the wall in a way she hoped was relaxed enough so he wouldn't feel the need to hold her like a toddler, but also in a way she knew would steady her. "Just got a bit dizzy. Bit unsteady there."

"Looked like you were going to faint to me," the Doctor amended, taking his hands from her arms and looking at her thoughtfully, but so intently it appeared he was trying to x-ray her with his eyes.

Rose shook her head. "Nah, I'm fine." Which was actually true now; the wave of dizziness had gone, and the TARDIS felt still again.

He frowned slightly, head tilted. "Sure?"

She nodded determinedly. "'Course. Now, where're we going?" The Doctor continued to gaze at her for a few seconds, his eyes shifting over her body, up and down, as if he was trying to do his own little self assessment right then and there on the spot. Which was something Rose thought was fairly ridicules to be honest. "C'mon," she insisted. "I know it's difficult, but I think it's time to stop staring at me. And maybe set the TARDIS into some nice little unknown, so we can save another planet. It's a full time job, you should know."

The Doctor expression shifted to slightly bemused and his eyes stopped on her face, locking her eyes. "Believe me, I do know." It appeared he saw no reason to keep Rose in the vortex, put her in the infirmary, or whatever else he'd decide to do if she were sick, and his attention turned to the console, bounding over to hold one of the levers.

Rose followed immediately, stopping by his side and beaming up at him. "Where to then?"

"Ah-ha," he said, with a giant grin. "Where would be the fun in telling you yet? A surprise, I think, would do nicely right now." And with that, he pulled down the lever and the TARDIS shuddered to a spinning start.

When the shaking had stopped, and Rose was able to let go of the console without falling flat on her face, the Doctor promptly laced her hand in his and they hopped down the grating to the door. "Oh, and by the way," he said abruptly, whipping round and grinning at her as they reached the door. "I did _see_ you watching me before." He raised his eyebrows, and his grin widened. "Can't blame you for looking of course, but that gives you no reason to stare. No doubt you were dribbling – all over the floor, too, I'll bet!"

Rose was momentarily caught off guard, her mouth opening and closing in a second of mortification before she brought back her bearings and just decided to smirk at him. "Stare? Nah, I think it was more like a brief ogle, you know like you do in the zoo, at a zebra. Or a tortoise."

As expected, the Doctor's grin faded, his expression changing to slightly offended. "Oi, what do you mean tortoise? When have I ever resembled a tortoise, Rose? Am I slow? Am I terribly wrinkled? I don't think so." His arms cross defiantly across his chest and Rose had to resist both rolling her eyes and bursting out laughing at the same time. "I am faster than a cheetah, and I would say the few lines I have are pretty good considering my age. But then I do –"

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Rose waved a hand quickly, interrupting him; she knew it would be best to stop him before he went into major babble mode. "You moisturize." Then she frowned at him. "But faster than a cheetah...?"

He sighed. "I meant my brain Rose."

"Oh, right... course," she said, with a small degree of sarcasm. "Well, if it makes you feel better then no, Doctor, you do not resemble a tortoise." She thought for a moment. "Or a zebra actually. Now, are we going to see where we've landed, or are we just gonna stand by the door nattering for the next few hours and leave visiting some probably wonderful planet for another time?"

The Doctor brought his finger to his chin, his brow creasing as if thinking that question very thoroughly through. "I'll go with the first option I think," he said finally, a wide smile pulling through his features.

Then with the usual, yet always exciting, air of revealing something magnificent and beautiful, he slowly opened the door for Rose. She stepped outside and gave a prompt awe struck gasp, her eyes widening, her lips forming an astonished oval smile.

They had landed on something of a metal balcony on top of a tall glass tower structure. Below, the landscape stretched in front of them; wide and far, plains and hills of fresh and beautiful flowers; roses and lilies, sunflowers and bluebell; plastering the hills as far as the eye could see. The sky was a wonderful copper red, mixed in swirls with a deep scarring purple moving through the red like whirling clouds.

"Beautiful," Rose murmured, one hand on the balcony rail and the other intertwined with the Doctor as she looked out at the landscape.

"Certainly is!" she heard him exclaim with that wonderful excitement of deep knowledge plastered in his voice. "It's called the Takaisiphuratola of the greater Barahasanabarah," he said with a steady clicking of his tongues and using some syllables Rose didn't think she'd ever heard before. "But thats's a tad long so most people just call it the 'Flower Planet'."

Rose grinned. "Most people? That means just you, I'm guessing."

"Rose, I'm insulted," he puffed, in mock outrage. "I'll have you know that I can say Takaisiphuratola of the greater Barahasanabarah quite easily thank you very much, and it is very much everyone else who's at the speaking disadvantage. I'd like to see you try it," he challenged, and though her gaze was still on the flowers expanding through the landscape, she could tell he was grinning.

"Fine," Rose declared. "Takasipha... Tak – Takaisiphura... tola," she struggled, "of the greater... Bara-has-ana-bar... something, something..."

The Doctor rolled his eyes (she couldn't see him, but she was quite sure that's what he was doing). "Close enough," he muttered.

"Told ya," she said with a cocky laugh.

"Indeed," he muttered, and she was surprised to hear a frown in his voice. She looked up at him then, to find him watching her, his brow now furred and skin tight. He pointed in vague indication of her face. "Your lip... it's bleeding," he told her.

Rose's hand swiped to her mouth, and she felt a warm, wet dampness on her lower lip. She took it back and looked at her fingers, seeing the deep red colour even more deep and red against her, for some reason, pale hand. "Oh!" she started, startled by how much blood was really there.

The Doctor was still frowning at her. "But there's no cut," he said.

Rose wasn't really listening though; she could taste the metallic tang in her mouth again. Now that she thought about it, she'd tasted it before, but had been too struck over by the excitement and awe of the new planet so she hadn't really noticed.

Then she detected the bile of blood rising in her throat; she could feel it, along with the salty, crisp starting of a heaving tickle in her throat. She felt an eruption of blood and air leave her mouth as she coughed, hitting her hand nicely in the palm and leaving a sticky, red mess. "Pretty sure that shouldn't be happening," she muttered, staring at her hand.

The Doctor was close by her side in one short second. His arm was around her shoulders, as if to steady her, and at first she had no idea why, her focus was nothing outside the large flecks of blood on her hand. Then, she teetered too far left and the Doctor was holding her quickly more securely. She realized then that the lightheadedness had returned. She tried to steady herself, but ended up falling back into the Doctor's chest. She leaned back into him, waiting for the wave of blind dizziness to fade.

The Doctor was saying something, and there was panic in his voice. His hands tightened on her arms at an awkward angle, his face looking desperately into hers. But for the life of her, Rose could not hear or register what he was saying, concentrating too hard on trying to regain her resolve. Then, as quickly as it came, the vertigo disappeared. The world stopped spinning at the same moment a striking blue light appeared in front of her face, and a metal pulse rang against her neck. The sonic screwdriver, she quickly reminded herself.

Rose blinked a few times, as the Doctor pulled the screwdriver away. "I'm okay, I'm okay now," she quickly assured him, now that she could fully see his worried features inches from hers. The Doctor stood in front of her, glancing from the sonic screwdriver to her face with a heavy frown in place. "Sorry," she muttered, shaking her head in annoyance, "I'm alright now... Dunno what happened there."

"Again," he said, with a deepening frown, "it looked like you were going to faint." He stared at her resolutely, his features heavy with concern. His eyes were dark, and much wider than usual; to be honest it was making Rose a little more worried than she already was. "You were coughing up blood, Rose."

"I know," she replied, glancing back down at her hand before shaking her head quickly and wiping it swiftly on her jeans. She looked up at him. "What your screwdriver say?"

The Doctor tore his gaze from Rose and looked back down at the screwdriver in hand. He stared at it, frowning, and ran a hand through his hair, looking utterly befuddled. "I don't know. It – it won't... it can't be –" Still frowning, and clearly annoyed, he banged it twice on the rail of the balcony.

"Oh, 'cause that'll help," Rose muttered sarcastically.

"Working," the Doctor finished. He sighed, put the appliance back in his pocket and took Rose's hand. "Come on."

"Where're we going?" Rose asked, though she already knew the answer.

"The infirmary," the Doctor replied shortly.

Rose thought about arguing; the view was very beautiful on this 'flower planet' and she'd definitely prefer it to the blank, white walls of the infirmary, plus she felt fine now, better than fine really. But she knew better than to argue, and that blood had frightened her a little. Well, more than a little actually.

The Doctor led Rose back inside the TARDIS, and his pace was so quick he was practically jogging and dragging her along. "But what did the screwdriver say?" Rose asked, as they entered the bright, white infirmary room.

The Doctor didn't answer, taking Rose to the bed and turning to search through some of the various medical equipment by the bed. "Sit," he ordered, not looking at her but pointing in vague indication of the bed.

Rose didn't move. "Doctor," she said in a tone she hoped was hard. "Tell me what the screwdriver said? It must have said something about what was wrong."

He didn't turn back to look at her. "Sit," he repeated, and his hand was still pointing at the bed.

"I'm not your poodle, you know!" she cried, now thoroughly annoyed at the Timelord.

The Doctor sighed, but instead of apologizing like she expected him to, he turned around, put his hands on either side of her waist, picked her up, and plonked her on the infirmary bed.

Rose gritted her teeth. "Doctor, if you don't tell me what the hell that thing said _right_ now –!"

"Nothing," he interrupted.

"What?" She stared at him, confused.

"The screwdriver said..." he sighed and leaned against the bed, staring at her, "it said there's nothing physically wrong with you."

"But, I just..." She frowned, and and found herself pointing to her mouth for reasons she wasn't sure. "There was blood..."

"I know," he said. "Clearly there is something wrong, and there's some – I don't know – _malfunction_ with the sonic screwdriver." He turned back to the medical things on the side, his hands variously picking up a few up, and apparently putting other bits together. "Don't worry, I'll just run a few tests. We'll find out what's going on. I'll just take some blood, have a bit of a poker about, and you'll be as right as rain in no time at all! ...Right as rain? Whoever came up with that saying? Hmm, a gardener I expect. Right as rain. All you humans ever seem to do is complain about the rain, and then you have the spunk to contradict yourselves and come up with the saying 'as right as rain'... confusing species, you lot are."

Rose was trying hard to concentrate on the Doctor's words, but her attention was caught by the now familiar rising metallic iron tang in her mouth. "Doctor?" she said softly, with hidden panic.

He turned back to her, "Don't worry, Rose. We'll be back on the 'flower planet' in no time at –" He stopped abruptly, and she found him staring at her face. Slowly and steadily he reached a free hand to touch her lip. When he brought it back, his fingers were stained with her blood.

It was this time to no surprise to her when the Doctor's face swam unsteady in front of her, a wave of spinning dizziness sending her vision whirling and clouded for a third time. Rose used the bed she sat on to steady herself, feeling a sudden willingness to fall, close her eyes and give in to the darkness. She resisted though, trying to focus on the Doctor's worried words, and terrified frown.

This time though, it didn't seem to want to disappear, and her mouth was filling with blood she had no choice but to swallow. The throaty feel in her chest made her want to cough, but she resisted, trying to keep it all down. The Doctor's face swam in front of her, hazy and disfigured. He was saying something urgently, but she could not pinpoint the words. She thought he might have been telling her to 'stay with him' but she couldn't understand the meaning of the words, for where else she could be going? She was staying right here, near to him. But he was fading... and glassy... his face and chest in her blurry vision.

The flecks of blood on his chest was the last she saw before she succumbed to the darkness. And the loud, throaty bark of a cough was the last thing she felt erupt from her lungs before everything went black.

* * *

_To be continued... _

_Thanks for reading. You know what to do if you liked it... _


	2. Two: As Thou Wilt

**Disclaimer: ** I own nothing you recognize.

**A/N:** Um. Oops? I have no excuse for this being _so_ god damn late. Well, except that my computer _did_ catch a virus, which deleted my first draft of this. But... to be fair, that was a month or two ago. Sorry, really I am. I've been writing things without sending them into FF lately. Feeling a bit self conscious maybe. Dunno about this chapter, I think it waffles but I'll let you judge. If you can't remember why this story is on your staory alert, you should probably read chapter one. Hehe. Oh, and thank you so much for the reviews. Wasn't expecting all those _at all._ So thanks!!

Anyway. Hem. Here's chapter two.

Chapter Two:   
As Thou Wilt

_Sweet soul, do with me as thou wilt;  
I lull a fancy trouble-tost  
With 'Love's too precious to be lost,  
A little grain shall not be spilt.'_

– – –

The Doctor could only watch in alarm as Rose fell back unconscious, spraying his shirt with her blood as a hacking cough escaped her. His hands went to the back of her head, lifting it up in case she coughed up any more blood. None appeared though and his fingers moved to her neck, noticing with some relief that the pulse point was steady. "Rose?" he called to her desperately, leaning down with his face inches from hers. "Rose?" he practically yelled in her face. "Rose, please! Wake up!"

This was pointless though, he was beginning to realize. Rose did not stir and the Doctor stood back up straight, hand running through his hair as his mind reeled.

Abruptly, he grabbed his sonic screwdriver back from his pocket and began to scan Rose's body. He received exactly the same result as before though. The screwdriver showed no physical wrong with her body. Heart, lungs, liver, stomach – every muscle, bone and organ in her body – they were all fine. Apparently.

The Doctor held back a frustrated groan. This made no sense! He stared with annoyance at his sonic. Rose's was coughing up blood, fainting on the spot, and he was expected to believe everything was just hunky dory? His hands ran over his face, as he tried to think, rubbing his eyes and sighing. Then he stilled, a frown bridging his brow. He looked at his hands in thoughtful wonder. They were still stained red with Rose's blood. Drying now, it marked the tips of his fingers and palms.

With tentative movements he brought the tip of his forefinger towards his mouth. And his frown deepened. That was... odd. It was blood, yes. And yet, it couldn't be Rose's, could it? Rose's blood was A Negative. He knew because of the amount of unfortunate times she'd ended up spilling it. Never anything serious... usually, but he would have to clean up the scrapes in the infirmary.

The first time she'd drawn blood on their adventures had been a little while after the Dalek in Van Stanton's museum when he'd been in his previous body. They had been running from a nasty race called the Vrictons in a long, windy tunnel, on a planet he'd thought was uninhabited, when Rose had tripped ungracefully to the floor on some jagged rock. She'd gotten straight back up, of course, and ran on immediately. But when they reached the TARDIS, the Doctor had noticed her very blooded jeans and clear discomfort.

It had been there in the infirmary, as he used his advanced equipment to heal her injured leg, that he'd decided to ask her what blood type she was.

"Why?" she'd asked, with a frown.

"Just in case," he'd insisted at the time, whilst hoping he would never need that information for something like looking for a blood donor, but knowing he needed to check – she was, after all, (probably) the most jeopardy-friendly companion he'd had yet.

She'd frowned slightly. "Not sure. Common as muck, probably. But I've never checked or anythin'."

"That's alright, I'll check for you," he'd said with a goofy grin. Taking a needle from the equipment beside him, the Doctor had taken a sample of her blood to one of the machines at the back and found that, yes, indeed, it was rather common. A negative.

The Doctor was fairly sure that's what he had read on the screen. In fact, he was positive. So, then why, right now, did he taste blood that almost definitely was not A negative? He stared at his hands for a moment as if they were speaking some vulgar language to him, before looking sharply back to Rose. She was very still, lying on the infirmary bed. He would have said she looked peaceful, like she was sleeping, if it weren't for the blood staining her lips and chin, and the dark red stain against her pink top.

Frowning, he took a syringe from the side table and took some blood from her arm, before taking it to one of the advanced machines at the back of the room. If it read A Negative then it was highly likely his senses were off today, along with his sonic screwdriver. He waited a few moments as it began to scan the blood, his gaze moving back over to Rose; keeping his eyes locked of the steady rise and fall of her chest.

The subtle beep behind him made him whip round, fixing his eyes on the screen. His brow furrowed. That couldn't be right. Yet there they were, quite clear, in Gallafreyan symbols, the words '**Origin unknown** ' were plastered across the screen.

Origin unknown? But what did that mean? Rose was totally and completely human. He leaned back against the machine behind him, staring ahead in thought. Rose was '_origin unknown'_ ... or, perhaps there was something in her blood that was origin unknown. Well, that would certainly make more sense. Desperately, the Doctor tried to think back to a time or place where Rose could have got something unknown (and distinctly _wrong_ , according to the bad feeling churning in his Time Lord gut) into her bloodstream.

Let's see, they'd gone to that parallel universe, met Pete, lost Mickey, and ended up having to... wait a minute. The Doctor stopped mid thought. It was an alternative universe. There could quite easily have been illnesses, diseases and other scary things there that they didn't have in this universe. An unpleasant thought suddenly popped into his head. What if Rose had somehow caught some deadly parallel disease? They couldn't return to that universe; it was impossible... but if that universe contained the cure that – should she have this parallel disease his mind was panicking on – would help her...

He swallowed back down those malicious thoughts; that hadn't happened, couldn't happen...

"Doctor?" The croaked voice behind him caused him to suddenly whip around, finding Rose looking at him with wide eyes.

"You're awake." He rushed over to her, placing a cool hand to her forehead.

"Mm, guess so." She tried to sit up, but he quickly stopped her, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

"It's alright, don't get up," he said gently, "you might still be a bit dizzy."

"No," Rose muttered, "'m fine. Really." She looked up at him, her slightly dazed gaze meeting his warm, concerned eyes. "I fainted," she said; it wasn't a question.

"You fell unconscious, yes." He nodded, brow furrowed in concern.

"Did you find out what was wrong?" she asked nervously. "Am I sick or something?" She bit on her bottom lip, but he could see her trying to smile, tying to hide the fear that was surely plaguing her.

"Oh, well, I..." He stopped then, hesitated. His eyes swept over her, noting no real change in her physical appearance, beside the few bloodstains on her lips and t-shirt. He sighed and fell down into the chair next to the infirmary bed, his gaze looking down at the tiled floor. "I'm still not sure exactly," he admitted in a small voice.

"It's okay," she said quietly, her hand resting on his arm. "You'll think of something. Besides, I feel much better now."

He looked up at her, "But for how long?" Rose didn't answer, but simply continued to gaze at him, her eyes radiating trust. The Doctor sat up, his hand reaching out for hers. "How do you feel, exactly? Does anything hurt? Are you dizzy?"

Rose sat up, shaking her head. "No, I told you, I'm fine. Maybe it's gone now," she said with a tiny shrug, but he could tell by her voice that it wasn't something she really believed. "Did you find anything, anything at all?"

"Well, I had a theory..." he trailed off though, staring at her trusting face and suddenly very afraid. His theory terrified him if he was honest, of course. If it was correct, if it was true...

"Yeah?" Rose prompted after several moments of silence.

"The parallel world we went to. You know everything's a bit different there... different rules; government; food... everything."

Rose nodded slowly, either unwilling or unable to say if she knew where this was going.

The Doctor swallowed, nodded. "Yes. Well, there might also be different... illnesses over there. The people might even have a different biology. I was thinking that the reason my sonic screwdriver and equipment isn't detecting anything might be because whatever it is that's wrong with you... isn't from this universe." He swallowed. "Just a theory, of course. I mean I have no real way of knowing–"

"Doctor," Rose interrupted. Her voice was soft and quiet, but demanding and somehow forceful at the same time. He looked down at her, watching as she placed a hand into his. He noted the warmth of it; but Rose's hand was usually warm in his, and it didn't seem particularly different to the other times he held her hand. He clung onto that, if nothing else. "It's gonna be okay. And besides, it might not be true," she told him softly. "We left the parallel world weeks ago."

The Doctor thought about that; it was true, it had been three weeks and three days – linear time – since they had left that world.

"We've been to mum's and then to that planet with the huge market since then, haven't we? And I only started feeling... sick this morning." Her brow furrowed and she looked up, her honey eyes meeting the Doctor's. "Could I have got something from that planet we last visited? With the market? Raxom, wasn't it?"

His hand went up and rubbed his eyes as he thought this over. "I'm not sure. The screwdriver isn't coming up with anything, and I think it would if it were an illness from Raxom. Though..." He looked at Rose, "Seems like that might be our best lead at the moment."

Rose gave him a small, slightly forced, smile, "Better than the alternative, yeah?"

He didn't smile, just nodded. "Right, come on then!" He stood up suddenly, trying to put on his usual jovial attitude. "I'll go to Raxom, ask around a bit, you wait in the console room for me. I'll be as quick as I possibly can." He started toward the infirmary door, holding out his hand for Rose.

"Wait, what?" Rose got up, taking his hand, but stopped and stared at him with a furrowed brow before they could go any further. "What do you mean I'm gonna stay here?"

The Doctor sighed, and his voice was gentle and pleading when it came. "Rose, you can't come. You're sick, and if it is this planet that caused the illness then I really think it would be a bad idea to take you back there."

"But what good am I gonna be here? And what if you get whatever it is?"

The Doctor just gave her a knowing look. "Timelord physiology, remember? I'll be fine."

"Doctor," she said softly, her hand fitting into his and looking up at him with her wide, brown eyes. She needed to say no more, and he knew it.

He sighed, his eyes boring into hers. In truth, he was wary about his own plan if he was honest. Something could quite easily happen to her while he was on Raxom; she could fall unconscious again, and the blood she was coughing up was a rather large worry...

Reluctantly he nodded. "Okay, okay. Fine. It'd probably be better if you came anyway. Just... try not to wander off, would you?"

Keeping hold of her hand, the Doctor guided her back toward the console room. They both remained silent as he set in the coordinates for Raxom, something usually unheard of. The Doctor pulled dials and strode quickly around the console, being sure to keep at least one eye on Rose at all times.

As soon as they'd landed, Rose gave the Doctor the briefest of genuine smiles, before leading him straight to the TARDIS doors, most probably before he could change his mind about taking her. The planet was just as he remembered, but then it should be – he had set the coordinates for just the day after they'd left. It was rather beautiful. A permanently bright blue sky, small villages of friendly inhabitants, varying in species, and a vibrant market at the centre of it all.

His aim when they had visited before had been to cheer Rose up and take her mind off of Mickey. And it had worked moderately well; the shopping had seemed to make her smile a little more, and it had been a fun day out really; no running for their lives, no alien invasion... no problems. Well, that was then. Now, Rose was ill (possibly seriously), this planet may have been the cause of that and was their best chance of finding out why.

"So," Rose said quietly as they left the TARDIS, "do you have any idea of what we're looking for?"

"Our best chance is to look for their hospital clinic, describe your symptoms, and see if they know anything."

"But Doctor," Rose's tone was gentle, nervous, "if you don't know what's wrong, how will they?"

He looked at her, his features showing concern, affection, "I don't know, but it's our best chance right now." He swallowed and when he next spoke his voice carried something that even he recognised as desperation, "I don't know what else to do, Rose."

"It's okay," she said quickly, her hand giving his a gentle squeeze. "It'll all be fine."

She couldn't know that, of course, but he nodded anyway, giving away a tiny smile. "Yeah, of course it will," he said, and he knew he was convincing himself as much as he was her.

The clinic wasn't situated too far from the TARDIS as it turned out. The small building looked like a well-designed, modern cabin more than anything else; yellow wood with high wide windows and a bright blue painted front door. Others around them passed with little or no care, busy and most heading towards the market.

"You still feeling okay?" the Doctor asked Rose as they entered the building.

"I feel fine," she insisted, her eyes moving around the small reception to the young woman at the reception desk. "It could have gone now, you know," she added.

The Doctor sighed. "Doubtful."

"Good afternoon, sir, miss," the young woman greeted as they reached the front desk. "Would you like to make an appointment?"

"Well, actually, we were just wondering if we could have a quick word with the doctor here," the Timelord admitted.

As he said it something twisted in his chest, and he was suddenly irrevocably ashamed of himself. He wasn't supposed to ask for a doctor; he was _the Doctor_ . He'd never been much of a fan for asking for help, though he'd never been really opposed to it when it was needed; but then he'd never needed it often really, not from strangers. But this was different. This felt like he'd failed Rose by asking for assistance from a _doctor_ of all people.

The receptionist gave a slight frown, her head beginning to shake, and the Doctor knew her answer before she'd opened her mouth. "I'm sorry. He's very busy. I'm not sure he'll be able to spare –"

"It's quite alright, Jaran," a gentle voice came from behind them. "I have time before the Hurvak with the bad chest bone comes in. I can see them, if they're quick." The Doctor and Rose turned to find a man, human in appearance, with greying hair and deep wrinkles grazing his face.

"Oh, hello!" the Doctor smiled, thrusting out his hand for old man to shake.

"Good afternoon, sir," he smiled back. "I'm Dr Lyes. What seems to be the problem?"

"Uhm, well, it's my friend actually..." The Doctor turned slowly to Rose. "She's, um, well, there's something wrong, and I can't," he looked down at the floor, "I can't work out what it is."

It felt almost like a physical ache to say that out loud, and as the Doctor felt Rose's eyes burning into him, he tried to ignore it.

"Right," Dr Lyes said with a nod. "Well, what are the symptoms?"

Rose went into a brief description of what had happened, the Doctor adding a comment or two when needed. Unnoticed by any of them, a man stood in the doorway of the clinic, listening intently to the symptoms Rose described, his face growing more worried by the minute. But while his features grew to concern, Dr Lyes' eyes were beginning to turn icy, his face becoming hard and distinctly impassive.

Finally, the Dr Lyes interrupted, "Is that quite enough?" He voice was hard, barely contained anger lacing his tone.

The Doctor stopped, his mouth open; features softened by shock. "Sorry?"

"I'm sure this is a very funny joke you two are playing, but I do actually have a job to do," Lyes hissed sourly. "Now, I suggest you wipe that ridicules nonsense from your minds and leave this clinic."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "I can assure you, this is no joke."

Dr Lyes let out a short bark of bitter laughter. "It can be nothing else!" he spat, and abruptly turned to stride through a door to their left.

"He didn't seem to happy," Rose murmured after a short pause, her honey eyes on the closed door.

"He didn't, did he?" the Doctor muttered distractedly. His attention had turned to the man standing in the doorway, whose gaze had not left Rose's face, staring at her in absolute horror. The Doctor frowned. It unnerved him, to say the least. He walked over. "Something wrong?" he asked the man as casually as he could manage.

Very slowly, his eyes finally left Rose, who was walking over to join them, and he turned his attention to the Doctor. "Oh, I – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... listen in or anything..." His wide eyes met the Doctor's, something terrible, fearful and knowing burning behind them. He was of strong build and looked to be in his mid-thirties – distinctively human by the look of him.

"Oh, don't worry about it," the Doctor waved a hand dismissively. "My friend's symptoms though...." he glanced once at Rose before turning back to the man, "they seem to have struck a chord with you?"

"I..." the man hesitated, swallowed. "I don't know if I should say."

"Why?" asked Rose, a crease in her brow. "Do you recognise what I've got? Is it some sorta bad bug? Some sorta... _really_ bad bug?"

The man didn't answer her, and whereas he couldn't take his eyes off of her before, he now looked determinedly anywhere but at Rose, his unease obvious. The Doctor felt his hearts tense, as he tried not to think about what this could mean, about what this man knew. "What's your name?" he asked quietly.

"Harrod," the man replied, his gaze on the Doctor's shoes. "My name is Harrod."

"Okay Harrod, listen, it's very important you tell us everything you know about what you think might be wrong with Rose."

Harrod finally looked up at the Doctor, anguish and something that appeared almost sympathetic covering his features. He sighed quietly. "Very well, but we'll have to go somewhere without prying ears." He glanced around the clinic before turning back out the door. "Come on, we don't have much time."

They followed Harrod for about ten minutes through the market and across several streets until they came across a small wooden hut at the edge of a brimming forest. "In here," Harrod said quietly, opening the door for them. Rose followed just behind the Doctor. He couldn't help thinking that she'd been oddly quiet as they walked. He'd asked how she was at least half a dozen times but had only gained a simple, but forced, "fine," in reply. He wondered if she was beginning to feel ill again, or if she was merely afraid.

They entered a small, but cosy, living area, with plenty of comfortable chairs, and a stove sitting by the fire.

"Please, have a seat," Harrod told Rose, pointing to a chair to his right, which she sat down in gratefully. His tone was soft, but his eyes were not quite managing to meet hers. "Would you like a drink?" he asked, but before she could answer he took a glass from one of his many cabinets and began filling it with water. He handed it to her. "I think you must be thirsty," he said quietly, and it wasn't a question.

Harrod turned then to the Doctor, their gaze meeting steadily. "When I heard you talking to Lyes before... I heard you say you were a Doctor. Is that true?"

"In a sense, yes."

Harrod glanced at Rose. "But you don't know what's wrong with your friend."

Once again, the Doctor was ripped with another wave of guilt and he felt himself wince in response. "No," he admitted, "I don't."

Harrod walked towards a door at the back of the room, turning back to him at the door. "Follow me."

Rose was getting up to follow them as the Doctor reached the door, but he quickly stopped her. "No, Rose. Wait here, I'm just going to talk to Harrod. I won't be a minute."

It was a credit to how ill (or was that afraid?) she felt, that she did not object to this or attempt to move from her seat, only nodding once.

The next room was smaller, more crowded, than the other. There was a workbench following the walls with stacks of old files and various lab-like beakers. Harrod was at the other side of the room, searching through some old papers.

"This is very nice," said the Doctor, his hands in his pockets as his eyes moved around the room. "Bit plain, but most labs are. Are you a scientist?"

"A little. But I haven't been in here in years," Harrod muttered distractedly. "Doctor," he then said more urgently, beckoning the Time Lord over.

The Doctor didn't hesitate, joining Harrod to see him looking through some newspapers. "Harrod," he said, his voice calm. "Do you know what's wrong with Rose?"

Harrod glanced up at the Doctor gravely. "Yes, I do. I think she may have a... disease. A disease from this village. It's very rare; only three people have ever had it before. One man, seventy-six years ago. Another, a woman, twelve years ago. And a girl – a teenager – three years ago." He looked down at the paper, and the Doctor saw the blurred face of a young woman, no more than nineteen, smiling up at the page. "The early symptoms – coughing up blood, fainting, in between times of brief well being – your friend seems to show all of those."

The Doctor tore his gaze from the girl on the paper, looking up into Harrod's depressed features. "What do we do about it? What's the medication?"

"There's nothing we can do." Harrod sighed sadly. "Doctor, there is no medication for this disease. It's been hushed up for a very long time and every single one of the people who caught it have not survived. They died a," he swallowed heavily, "a slow... painful death." He looked down at the worktop. "I'm very sorry. You have no idea how sorry. I've... I've been looking for a cure for a very, very long time, but... there is none. I gave up long ago."

The Doctor stared at him for a moment. "You're wrong." He said it calmly, but his jaw was tight. "Because Rose is not going to die. I won't let her. Besides, when you quit I don't think you counted on having a Doctor like me on your side. We'll find a way; a cure, I swear it. What's the name of the disease?"

Harrod shrugged, "There isn't a name. The government want it unknown, and to keep something unnamed is to keep it unknown."

"Hm, keeping it quiet," the Doctor muttered. "Could be why I haven't heard of it."

"Not many have."

"I should have," the Doctor said, his head shaking. "I should have known..."

Harrod sighed, and was about to say something, when a terrified scream sounded in the next room and the Doctor's hearts stopped for a moment; he could swear it.

_Rose._

Moving faster than he can ever remember moving in his lives, he ran into the next room. But at the sight before him, he heard himself gasp out loud, absolutely terrified.


End file.
